Summer had been sporting a radiant smile for an entire week, the kind that stretched from ear to ear.
This joyful expression seemed unaffected by the presence of the one person she detested. During this time, her calls and text messages with Caleb had become more frequent, and she reveled in this newfound companionship.
Their regular gym sessions, along with two other boys, had solidified their bond. It was no surprise that the trio soon became a quartet, as Liam and Warrin also grew close to Caleb.
Warrin, in particular, loved teasing Summer and Caleb whenever they strolled into their favorite café or passed by a bakery window.
Summer, on the other hand, couldn't stop complaining about Warrin's jibes but never found the courage to confront him directly.
Meanwhile, Caleb played along, flashing his charming dimples as if he and Summer were actually a couple, much to their friends' amusement.
Life seemed pretty normal—or maybe Summer was just overthinking things, as Liam and Warrin had suggested. Mars wasn't acting strange at all, even near the library, which was a huge relief for Summer.
It felt like Mars's presence no longer had any significant impact on her, and she could go about her classes as if nothing had changed.
"Are you sure there's nothing?" Summer read the message scrawled on the small piece of paper that Warrin had casually tossed her way.
She sighed deeply, rolled her eyes in exasperation, and turned to Warrin, contorting her face into the most comically ugly expression she could muster.
In a hushed tone, she replied with a curt, "No." Liam, sitting next to Warrin, just chuckled, enjoying the routine bickering that had become a normal part of their interactions.
Two days ago, Liam and Warrin were eagerly sharing details about their ambitious musical thesis project. They were putting their hearts and souls into it, and their passion was contagious.
As Summer listened to them with rapt attention, she started thinking about her own thesis topic. The idea of diving into her own academic adventure was beginning to take shape in her mind.
Although she had about six months to figure it out, she felt a growing impatience. She was itching to dive into research and discovery, particularly the history of Amarias.
Summer had already started brainstorming ideas for a reliable and interesting topic for her thesis.
It seemed her silent wishes hadn't gone unnoticed. As if reading her mind, the dean walked into the classroom with a warm smile.
The students greeted him respectfully, and he gestured for everyone to take their seats. He had an important announcement to share.
"Students, especially those pursuing the arts," the dean's voice resonated through the room, capturing the eager attention of everyone present, "the moment has arrived for you all to embark on your thesis projects."
At these words, Summer's face lit up with an elated smile. She turned to share her excitement with her companions, Warrin and Liam, who were equally thrilled on her behalf.
"Therefore, I kindly request all art majors to assemble in the main hall after the conclusion of today's classes," the dean continued. His gaze briefly met Summer's, interpreting her impish grin as a positive response, before he took his leave.
Summer's hands trembled with excitement as she clasped them together, eagerly anticipating the end of her classes and the commencement of her journey into the world of academic exploration.
Once the classes had concluded, students gathered in the main hall. It was a diverse assembly, comprising individuals from various departments, including history, geography, economics, and others.
On the stage, the esteemed teachers and the dean stood, ready to address the student body.
Mars stood next to the dean, assuming a posture of utmost attentiveness. His hands were neatly clasped in front of him, making him look like an obedient teacher keenly listening to the dean's opening remarks and guidance.
Not once did he divert his gaze toward where Summer stood, isolated and alone in the crowd.
Meanwhile, Liam and Warrin headed to a separate group meeting with their respective teachers, who were assisting them with their thesis projects.
Surprisingly, Summer didn't feel the usual sense of desolation without her friends by her side. This newfound lack of loneliness might have been due to the excitement buzzing in her mind.
She fervently wished for the dean to wrap up his speech quickly, eager to embark on the next phase of her academic journey.
"Alright, students," the dean began, addressing the eager crowd, "I presume you've arranged yourselves according to your respective departments." In a perfectly synchronized chorus, the students erupted with enthusiasm, shouting, "Yes, sir!" Their excitement was palpable, and their anticipation filled the air.
"Great," the dean responded, acknowledging their answer with a nod and a smile.
"Alright, let's get started." With a graceful gesture of his hand, he motioned for the students to step forward one by one.
Each student had the task of drawing a slip of paper containing the name of their assigned teacher for the upcoming semester.
The dean, aiming to ensure fairness and eliminate bias, had chosen a chit-drawing process.
However, despite his efforts, it seemed that fairness might not have been fully achieved, as there appeared to be something awry behind the scenes.
As the moments ticked by and the students took their turns, there was a tangible sense of anticipation filling the room.
Summer, in particular, found it increasingly challenging to contain her excitement. Her nerves showed in the form of an involuntary lip bite, reflecting the mix of excitement and uncertainty looming ahead.
Finally, it was Summer's turn, and a wide, joyful smile adorned her face as she stepped forward. With careful precision, she pulled the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, embarking on her deliberate stride toward the stage.
There, she would randomly select a chit that would determine her academic fate.
Despite her excitement, an undeniable uneasiness settled deep within her stomach, particularly when her gaze met Mars's.
Their eyes locked, and a peculiar and enigmatic expression graced Mars's face. It was neither the warm, welcoming smile he had worn on the day of his arrival, nor the stern, disapproving look he occasionally sported.
Instead, he appeared remarkably composed, almost detached.
Fortunately, the rest of the students from different departments, who had already been assigned their thesis supervisors, had vacated the premises. Only those from the history and economics departments remained in the main hall.
Amid this dwindling audience, nobody—not a soul—seemed to pay any heed to Summer's hesitant steps, which gradually slowed down as she stood on the stage.
A new bowl, brimming with fresh chits of varying colors, was ushered into the room. She happened to be the very first person to dip her hand into the bowl, representing the history department.
As her gaze settled on the bowl's contents, she noticed five distinct shades - Red, White, Green, Purple, and Yellow.
Summer took a moment to ponder her choice, her fingertips lingering over the array of vibrant chits.
After a brief pause, she settled on the purple one, grasping it with a blend of determination and gentleness to prevent any creases.
Her gaze then flickered towards the dean and the gathered teachers, stealing a moment to gauge their reactions.
With careful precision, she began to unfold the chit. Her movements hinted at a certain hesitation, as if she harbored a hidden fear of what lay within.
"Miss Nada," she whispered, her lips forming a gentle smile. "It's Miss Nada."
But the smile quickly faded, replaced by a concerned expression. Her gaze shifted to Mars, who sported a smile of his own. In that moment, it felt like the world around Summer blurred, leaving only Mars in focus.
His smile seemed tinged with amusement, or perhaps even mockery. The reason for his amusement was clear—Miss Nada was unwell, and that meant only one thing.
"Alright, given Miss Nada's condition, Mr. Mars will be your supervisor," the dean spoke with a soft, empathetic tone. Summer couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong; it settled deep within her.
The dean's words hit her unexpectedly.
"Summer," she snapped out of her thoughts as the dean addressed her, concern evident on his face. "You can return to your seat now," he said politely.
With a slight nod, Summer acknowledged him and descended the stage, making her way back to her original spot amidst the gathered crowd.
The dean had indeed kept his word, assigning Summer's supervision to Mr. Mars. As Summer tightly clutched the small piece of purple paper, her grip caused it to fold and crease.
"Why does it have to be him?" she mused, her mind swirling with doubt and uncertainty. Yet, deep within her heart, she knew there was no other option.
Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, tracing the patterns on the tiles as she walked, so absorbed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the other girls around her.
Some of them flashed her excited smiles, perhaps aware of the internal struggle she was enduring, while others wore expressions of jealousy, their eyes filled with envy.
A few, however, remained indifferent, focused on their own concerns and unaware of her inner turmoil.
Over the past two weeks, she had made every effort to avoid Mars's presence, but all her attempts had been futile.
Now, fate had brought them together again, with him as her supervisor. Despite her reluctance, she knew she had no choice but to cooperate with him.
"Hey Summer, what's up?" Warrin asked, a hint of concern playing on his features as he noticed her distant expression.
Summer had been lost in thought, fixated on the water bottle in front of her, wrestling with an indescribable turmoil.
She hesitated to vocalize her inner struggles, fearing they might be dismissed as mere overthinking or overreacting. But the whirlwind of emotions inside her was undeniable, impossible to brush aside.
Warrin and Summer had been close friends since childhood, their bond enduring through the years.
Yet, despite their history, she doubted if he could fully understand the depth of her feelings and concerns. The complexity of her inner world posed a challenge, even to her closest confidant.
How could she convey the intense aversion she felt whenever Mars, the substitute teacher, was around? It was a visceral reaction, stirring a profound emotion: pure, unadulterated hatred.
What baffled Summer even more was her inability to pinpoint the reason behind this intense antipathy.
Despite these conflicting emotions, Summer managed to maintain a façade. She shook her head lightly and offered a warm smile to the group of boys sitting nearby.
"Hey, hold up," Liam chimed in with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "didn't you need to figure out who your thesis supervisor is?"
Summer hesitated, not exactly thrilled to spill the beans about the person causing her such inner turmoil. With Warrin and Caleb eagerly awaiting her reply, she felt the weight of their expectant gazes.
"Well," she finally murmured, almost reluctantly, "it's Mars."
No further words were necessary to convey the depth of her emotions; Liam and Warrin could see the exhaustion and strain etched on her face, opting to forego any teasing in favor of empathy.
Baffled by the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere, Caleb spoke up, "So, who exactly is this Mars?"
Summer's response was short and to the point, a shiver running down her spine as she admitted, "A nightmare, someone I wouldn't even want to cross paths with."
"Seriously, how many guys are on your hating list?" Caleb asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, prompting Summer to glance at him in surprise. "I'm guessing from experience," he added, reflecting on the past year when Summer consistently avoided him.
"I don't hate you, Caleb," Summer replied, her tone casual as she leaned back in her chair.
They were back at their usual spot in 'The Midnight Rush' cafe after a strenuous gym session. "I just kept my distance because you reminded me a lot of someone from my past."
Caleb paused, considering her words before offering his perspective. "Maybe it's your intuition, Summer. Perhaps you have a gut feeling about Mars. Give him a chance; you might be pleasantly surprised."
Liam, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation, jumped in, "Exactly what we were discussing a week ago. Come on, Summer, it's our final semester."
Summer simply nodded in agreement and mouthed a small "okay." Despite momentarily forgetting about everything, they resumed their conversation, purposefully steering clear of the topic of Mars.
The same hostess continued to attend to them, engaging in a few more chats.
Although articulating her situation proved somewhat challenging, Summer felt thankful to have her two best friends and Caleb by her side.
They had whiled away what felt like a few hours in the café before realizing they should make the most of their time together amidst their thesis work.
"I think it's time we head home," Summer remarked, her exhaustion evident on her face.
"Yeah, you're right. It's almost 7, and we've been strolling around this park for quite some time," Liam chimed in. After their brief rendezvous at the café, all four of them had retreated to the park for a breather.
With the evening darkening and a chill creeping in, they were all clad in gym attire and hoodies.
Retrieving their bikes, Caleb extended his hand to offer Summer the spare helmet, but before she could take it, Warrin spoke up.
"Caleb, I'll give Summer a lift home today." The sudden announcement caught them off guard, but the gravity in Warrin's expression and the tension in his clenched jaw hinted at the importance of what he had to say.
Summer nodded at Caleb and climbed onto Warrin's bike.
"Hey, at least take the helmet," Caleb insisted, passing it over, much to the gratitude of both Summer and Warrin. With that, they set off, each taking a different path as their destinations diverged.
Liam had parted ways with the group earlier, his journey leading him in a different direction. Caleb and Summer, however, shared the same route home, residing in the same neighborhood.
Caleb couldn't help but notice the ease with which Summer fit on Warrin's bike, a comfort born from their long-standing friendship since childhood.
The ride back was quiet. Summer rested her chin on Warrin's shoulder, and Warrin navigated the streets in silence until they reached her house.
Warrin's solemn demeanor was out of character, yet there were occasions when seriousness enveloped him.
Summer knew better than to interrupt him during those moments; a silent Warrin could be quite intimidating.
"Hey, Warrin, you're going to be late. Your place is on the other side," Summer chimed in, concern coloring her voice.
Warrin responded with a grin, "A coffee and some snacks could do the trick." He neatly parked his bike on Summer's porch, her nod of agreement reassuring. Together, they made their way into Summer's cozy abode.
Stepping inside, Jake's eyes caught the helmet in Summer's hand, prompting him to ask, "Whose helmet is that?"
Summer let out a sigh, "Oh no, I forgot to return it to Caleb."
Warrin quickly reassured her, "No worries, you can give it back another time." Then, turning to Milo, he greeted, "Hey Milo, how's the packing going?"
Jake beamed, "It's going smoothly. I'm pretty pumped."
Warrin nodded approvingly, "Awesome."
Summer then offered, "You guys can hang out in my room while I whip up some coffee."
Warrin hesitated, but Jake intervened, playfully nudging them towards the stairs, "Go on, I'll take care of it. Besides, my coffee is second to none."
"Hey," Warrin chuckled.
Taking a moment to glance around, Warrin observed the familiar clutter of Summer's room, a comforting constant amidst adulthood. Despite the mess, the space felt surprisingly roomy.
A dresser stood to the left, boasting a sizable mirror. In the center, a princess bed beckoned, dressed in purple covers—Summer's favorite color, naturally.
Clothes were scattered near the window, creating a cozy spot for lounging and chatting.
But what really grabbed Warrin's attention was the purple book resting on her desk. He murmured to himself as he read the title, "Stories from the North," while Summer disappeared into her attached washroom to change into something more comfortable.
"I borrowed this book from the library about two weeks ago," Summer mentioned, catching Warrin's gaze fixed on the book.
"Nice," he responded with a slight smile.
"I could lend you Jake's pajamas. Those gym clothes might irritate your skin," Summer suggested without waiting for his response. She headed outside to ask Jake if he could lend Warrin one of his night suits, and fortunately, Jake agreed.
"This actually suits you," Summer remarked, trying to stifle her laughter as she observed Warrin in the night suit adorned with little bears. "Now I understand why he never wore it," she chuckled.
It was the same night suit she had given her brother Milo as a gift, but he never wore it, claiming it was too cute for his tough image. Warrin tossed a towel at Summer and joined in her laughter.
They both settled comfortably on the window sill, with Summer holding a fox plushie tightly. She pouted, knowing full well that Warrin had prepared a lecture that was five pages long.
Warrin hesitated, but Jake insisted, nudging them toward the stairs, "It's okay, I'll do it. Besides, my coffee tastes better than yours."
"Hey."
Warrin surveyed the room, taking in its cluttered appearance. He couldn't help but chuckle, recognizing that some things never change, even as one becomes a full-grown adult.
Summer's room was surprisingly spacious, with a dresser on the left as you entered, complete with a large mirror. In the center, there was a bed – to be precise, a princess bed adorned with purple covers and sheets – purple, her favorite color, of course.
Her clothes were strewn near the window sill, the type where people could comfortably sit and chat.
"Alright, so, are you ready to kick things off?" Summer sighed, her eyes fixed on the window where dark clouds swirled across the sky. It had been ages since Warrin and Summer had managed to carve out a moment to delve into the secrets that had been weighing on her mind.
Warrin swiftly shot off a text to his mother, giving her a heads-up that he'd be crashing at Summer's place for the night. Unconsciously, Summer's fingers traced over her shoulders, mapping the scars beneath the fabric of her button-up shirt.
"Does it still bother you?" Warrin's voice was laced with concern.
"Nah, not really," Summer replied with a faint chuckle. "It's kinda just a part of my routine now." She paused, her gaze drifting back to the brooding sky outside. "But this sense of unease just won't quit."
"Is it because of Mars?" Warrin probed gently, searching her face for clues.
Summer nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's... I don't know, Warrin. I was cruising along, minding my own business like any other college kid. Then bam, Mars shows up, and suddenly I'm hit with this strange mix of recognition and dread. It's like my gut is screaming at me to steer clear of him. I can't even begin to explain why I'm reacting like this, and it's really starting to mess with my head."
Summer folded into herself, resting her head on her knees, arms wrapped tightly around her legs as if seeking solace from the turmoil swirling within.
"Hey, Summer, I hate to bring this up, but those books over there," Warrin started, nodding towards the overflowing bookshelf next to her study table, filled with histories of Amarias and beyond, "they might be messing with your head a bit. I know how much you love those stories, but they've kinda gotten into your head so much that sometimes you start thinking you're one of the characters."
Summer's gaze dropped, a slight pout forming on her lips. Warrin's words hit home harder than she'd like to admit.
"Remember that time you almost ran into that fire, convinced someone named Mauve needed saving?" Warrin went on, his voice tinged with genuine worry. "You're letting these stories cloud your judgment, Summer."
Leaning in, Warrin gently placed his hands on Summer's shoulders, guiding her to face him. "Listen, Summer, I want you to know that I couldn't care less about any supposed resemblance to history or any notion of you being some kind of incarnate being. To me, you're simply you—my Summer, my dearest friend, and so much more. Even if there were some connection to a historical figure, which I find hard to believe, we're living in the 21st century. There's no time machine to take us back into the past. All we can do is seek answers and come to terms with what's lost. My concern for you is genuine, Summer. You're just a student, and Mars, well, he's just another PhD holder, a teacher. So, either you maintain that identity, or you risk finding yourself in an asylum."
With heartfelt sincerity and a touch of urgency, Warrin tried to convey the depth of his worry for Summer, hoping to pull her back from the brink of her historical obsessions and into the present moment.
Warrin wore his fear like an open book, and Summer, perceptive as ever, could discern it clearly in the depths of his eyes. His concern for her ran deep, a steadfast presence in her life, standing by her side through every low moment.
Warrin's playful banter and teasing weren't merely for amusement; they served as a shield against the relentless storm of troubling thoughts that often besieged her.
Every word that Warrin uttered was carefully chosen, each sentence crafted with precision. It didn't matter how firmly the myths of Amarias were rooted in history; in his eyes, they were simply lessons of the past.
Warrin believed that one could either glean wisdom from history and progress or get lost in the labyrinthine depths of the past, losing touch with reality.
Summer, however, refused to let the weight of historical theories tarnish the present she held dear, surrounded by people she deeply cherished.
With a patience that only someone who truly cared could possess, Warrin patiently awaited Summer's response.
A subtle nod from her signaled her agreement, but this time, it was accompanied by a radiant smile, despite the tears that had already begun their descent down her cheeks.
Tears cascaded down Summer's cheeks, an unusual sight for someone known to bring joy to anyone's life.
Her unexpected display of emotion was met with a lighthearted comment from Warrin, whose teasing nature never seemed to wane.
He playfully remarked, "You're crying, the one who can make anyone cry is crying."
Summer couldn't help but snort in response, trying to hide her laughter. Warrin's quip had caught her off guard, breaking through her emotional facade.
Just as the atmosphere seemed to lighten with Warrin's banter, a boisterous voice shattered the moment. It was Jake, his voice carrying through the door.
"Hey, the coffee's all set! Mind if I join you guys, or should I hang tight while you finish up whatever antics you're into?" Jake's sudden appearance triggered an automatic cringe from both Summer and Warrin.
With a burst of energy, he barged into the room, injecting his lively presence into the scene, almost as if his mere arrival had hit the reset button on the entire atmosphere.
"Woah, Jake," Warrin began, a playful disbelief lacing his words, "I thought you were supposed to be my buddy. Can't believe you'd throw shade like that. I have better options, you know." His attempt at humor earned him a playful slap on the back.
Summer, her face deadpan, added, "Yeah, and who says I'd ever pick you anyway?"
"Alright, enough of that," Jake suggested with a warm smile. "We're doing a throwback sleepover, just like the good old days when we were kids. Let's head downstairs."
The trio congregated in the living room, their laughter reverberating as they settled in for a night of random board games and playful banter. Glancing around, Jake couldn't resist asking,
"So, where's Liam tonight?"
"Yeah, I miss having him around," Summer lamented, her expression slightly pouty. "But it's too late to do anything about it now."
Warrin, sporting a mischievous grin, chimed in, "Oh, he's going to be fuming when he finds out," leaving everyone to ponder the repercussions of their night without him.
As the evening progressed, they found themselves engrossed in deeper conversations while casually flipping through channels and stumbling upon random movies on the television. Eventually, exhaustion crept in, and they each settled into makeshift sleeping spots.
Summer curled up on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, while Jake and Warrin sprawled out on the floor, contorting into the most awkward sleeping positions imaginable.
In the span of the two weeks that had flown by, so much had unfolded, yet there remained a considerable five months and a week until the semester's end.
However, this time Summer slept peacefully, clutching Warrin's words close to her heart. She was resolute in not allowing anything to hinder her pursuit of her dreams.
As she drifted off to sleep, a newfound hope enveloped her, instilling a belief that the future held the promise of a fresh start and genuine happiness.